Right Through Me
by jpgFury
Summary: Broaching the subject of Sidonis and what happened on the Citadel was awkward and painful for both Garrus and Shepard, but it had to be done.
1. Chapter 1

**Right Through Me - Chapter 1  
**

Disclaimer: As usual, all the important bits like characters, world, etc (pretty much everything but the situation) are Bioware's and not mine. Pity that...

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_Is there anything that I need to say that hasn't been said before_  
_I've been polite for too long, why should I be anymore_  
_Better now than never, better loud than clever_  
_Better just to play the fool_  
_It's times like this when you just close your eyes and kiss_  
_'Cause everything after this is just bullshit and being cruel_

_Fearless – Matthew Good Band_

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Lugging a crate up the aisle towards the main battery, Aurora Shepard was both more nervous and more excited than she could remember being in a very, very long time. Saving humanity was full of excitement, but it was rarely the pleasant mix of excitement and apprehension that she felt just now. Usually it was the gut-clenching, heart-pounding, sweat-inducing anticipation of fighting for one's life - nothing at all like the childlike thrill that made her glow with pleasure as she struggled with her awkward burden.

_I hope this isn't too soon; I hope he understands._

Shepard's interference in Garrus' quest to avenge his murdered squad had nearly destroyed their friendship, and despite the fact that things had only recently returned to normal between the companions, she knew Garrus was still struggling to reconcile pardoning Sidonis with the lingering guilt he felt. Broaching the subject of what had happened on the Citadel with Sidonis would be awkward and painful for them both, but it had to be done. Like any other wound, those to the spirit had to be fully cleansed of debris before the healing could begin in earnest.

_Well, no time like the present_, came the unbidden response to her growing trepidation. _Besides, I come bearing gifts.… Even turians accept peace offerings._

The crate had been sitting in the Normandy's hold while Shepard waited for the right time to give it to Garrus. Weeks had passed, but the right time never seemed to eventuate, and finally Shepard had realised that it never would, unless Garrus was willing to move past Omega and Sidonis.

After her epiphany, Shepard had briefly contemplated sending Kelly to try to talk to the stoic turian, to finally put her skills to good use, but since Garrus seemed particularly uncomfortable around the bubbly Yeoman, it was never really an option. There was no one else who could talk to the Garrus the way Shepard could - or used to be able to - so she knew the job of trying to help him confront his personal demons fell to her.

The fact that her interference could end with him leaving the Normandy, and her service, for good was foremost in her mind as she carried the crate up from the lower decks. If she said the wrong thing, the situation would quickly deteriorate beyond her control. If she remained silent, her friend's misplaced guilt and anger would eventually wear him down until there was nothing left of the idealistic, vigilante soul she so respected.

Unwilling to lose her best friend by staying silent, and never one to avoid a confrontation, Shepard had marched, crate in hand, to the gun battery and steeled herself for whatever would follow.

'EDI,' she asked, 'can you open the door please? And lock it once I'm in,' she added in a quieter voice.

'Of course, Shepard,' came the instant reply. 'Would you also like me to inform Mr Moreau that you are not to be disturbed?'

'Actually, EDI, could you just block all comms while I'm in there, cameras too? I don't want to hear a peep out of Joker, short of impending disaster – _really_ impending disaster. I'd like a bit of privacy, just this once. Garrus deserves that much at least.'

'Very well, Commander, although Mr Moreau will not be happy.'

'I know, but just tell him I ordered it. I owe you one, EDI. Thanks.'

The doors swished shut behind Shepard as she stepped into the small workspace and readjusted her hold on the crate. The damned thing was an awkward shape and size, with handles designed for a turian grip, not a human's smaller, softer hands.

'Shepard, need me for something?' His back to the door, Garrus stood at the primary interface for the SR2's main guns. He was still dressed in the scarred blue Agent armour that he refused to replace or repair.

'A hand would be nice.' Shepard grunted in frustration as the crate began to slip out of her hands. 'And you could tell me how the hell you always know when it's me.' Garrus had responded to her presence without even looking, his attention still focussed on the screen in front of him as he adjusted the targeting and firing systems yet again.

Garrus turned towards his commander and quickly relieved her of her burden before it could slip out of her grasp. 'Well, you smell...'

Shepard raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth to respond, but he quickly continued.

'Ah, that didn't come out right – what I meant was that you smell different than the others on the ship.' Realising he hadn't actually made anything better with his last comment, he broke off and placed the crate on the floor between them.

Shepard lifted her arms and sniffed from hers fingertips to shoulder, trying to identify the offending odour. 'Damn it, I still smell like that thresher sludge I got drenched in on Tuchanka, don't I?'

'It's not the thresher goo, Shepard, you just smell _different_. Not bad, just _different_. You always have, but ever since Cerberus brought you back it's more noticeable.' The former C-Sec Officer spread his arms in the universal gesture of peace and submission. 'Don't worry, humans wouldn't notice – turians perceive scent differently than you do.'

Mollified, Shepard dropped her hands, crossing them loosely in front of her chest as she leaned back against the doors. 'Well, in that case, I'll still give you your present.'

Garrus stepped back, bumping the console behind him as he looked at the crate at his feet in apprehension. 'I already told you that I don't want a miniature giant space hamster Shepard. If you want to mate that disgusting rodent, Boo, you're...'

'It's not a pet, Garrus,' Shepard interrupted, before he could voice his objections to her efforts to find a mate for her recently acquired pet.

Dropping the playful banter, Shepard suddenly shifted tack and raised the real reason for her visit to the cramped gun battery. 'Now that things are over with Sidonis, don't you think it's time to start living again?'

Turians, as a rule, were hard to read, and Garrus Vakarian, with his C-Sec training, was even harder than most. Aurora had spent enough time with the reserved officer, though, to recognise the small, telltale signs of his discomfort at her words.

'What do you mean, Shepard? I'm fine. I'm here, aren't I?' came the terse response. His mandibles flared as he spoke, the words accompanied by the slight widening of his bird-like blue eyes and a single twitch of his gun hand.

The scars on his face and on the armour he refused to forgo might have been the most visible marks of what Garrus had been through, but despite his outward reserve, Shepard knew the stoic turian still felt the loss of his squad keenly.

'Don't give me that crap, Garrus, 'cause I can see right through that facade of yours. I haven't heard you say more than five words to anyone on this ship, outside of Tali and me. You don't eat with the rest of the crew; you spend all of your spare time in here or alone in the observation lounge. Hell, Garrus, you even sleep in here.'

Taking a quick breath, Shepard continued, despite Garrus' obvious discomfort at her words. 'I know it's hard, Garrus, especially on a Cerberus ship, but I really need your head, and your heart, here my friend.'

Taken aback by the Commander's heartfelt words, Garrus hesitated. It wasn't fair to respond to such honesty with the hollow words that came automatically to his mind, the trite assurance that he was fine. 'Shepard... Aurora... I don't know what to say. I'm not the same person that travelled with you before.'

'I know how it feels to lose your crew. What happened on Akuze, well, it nearly destroyed me. Then Jenkins in Eden Prime and Ash on Virmire. And the Normandy – Priestly, Adams... I _know_ how you feel, Garrus.' Shepard struggled for control of her emotions. 'These things change a person - Gods, do I know how they change a person - but I need you. _You_, not some shadow of the man I knew before.'

'I'm trying Shepard, really I am.' Garrus' response was quiet, his normally resonating voice dampened by shame. 'But sometimes,' he continued, 'when I'm with the others, I see my squad – I hear them dying all over again...' A shuddering sigh echoed in the close confines as Garrus looked away, refusing to meet her eyes.

'Look,' Shepard ordered, holding her shaking hands out in front of her until he turned stiffly back towards her. 'Look at what just thinking about it still does to me.'

'I still think about what I could have done differently all the damn time, Garrus. Cold comfort, I know, but it's true.' Holding his gaze, she continued, 'We all know the risks that come with the job, but we're still here, holding the line, because someone has to, and who the hell else is there? Who else could do this?' Shepard spread her arms wide in a sweeping gesture that encompassed everything they had been through together. The gut-wrenching fear and the adrenaline rushes, the fleeting moments of joy and the lonely nights of crushing despair, the friends found and those they had lost – everything that defined who she was.

'You need to put the past behind you, where it belongs, and remember that we still have a job to do. The pain, like the scars, will be there forever, but they'll both fade if you let them.' Shepard's voice was steady and strong. Turian society was ruled by a strong militaristic doctrine, and children were raised from an early age to serve – and to obey. Shepard hoped that the command in her voice would resonate with both his martial upbringing and C-Sec training, and help him to accept what she was telling him.

As the silence stretched out, Shepard swallowed the next words on her tongue and tried to control the fluttering of panic in her stomach. Her pride wouldn't allow her to beg – not even for Garrus. Not even when she remembered the panic and desperation she'd felt when she nearly lost him to the mercenaries on Omega. She had said her piece, and now it was up to Garrus to decide if he was willing to try to make his own peace with the past.

Garrus' eyes turned inwards as he thought about how he had followed Shepard across the known universe for almost a year, always at her back when she needed him. About how at first he had only been there to help bring down the rouge Spectre Saren, but after seeing her put herself at risk time and time again doing what was right, he had become both her companion and her friend. By the end, he felt such a deep and abiding respect for the selfless human that he would have gladly sacrificed himself for her.

His eventual response was quiet, but his voice was steady and strong. 'You lead, Shepard, and I'll follow.' There was no hesitation and no regret in his words.

Moving around the crate, Shepard stepped to Garrus' side and placed her hand on his armoured arm. 'There's no one else I'd rather have with me, my friend,' she told him, her eyes bright with emotion.

Shepard shook her head to clear her thoughts and glanced at the container by her feet. 'I got you something.'

'So you said before.'

Kneeling at the front of the silvery crate, she entered the codes to release the crate's lid into her omni-tool. The locks clicked open, and she began to lift off the cumbersome cover.

'Let me help.' Garrus quickly stepped across from her and reached down to lift the top.

He very nearly dropped his burden in surprise when he saw the mark embossed in the lid. 'Shepard, this seal is from Palaven, from the turian homeworld. What in the universe have you got in there?'

'Patience, Garrus, is a virtue,' Shepard replied as she reached down and rummaged through the packing. Without looking away from her task, she asked a question of her own. 'Do you remember when you told me that you were only comfortable with absolutes, and that you didn't know what to do with grey? It was on the way back to the Normandy after we confronted Sidonis.'

With a clarity similar to the drell eidetic memory, Garrus recalled the shock and betrayal he had felt when Shepard stepped between him and Sidonis and told the traitor that she was there to help him. The words they had spoken afterwards, however, were less salient, and he only vaguely recollected what he had said as he struggled to contain his anger. 'Yes, I suppose so.' The blue collar of his armour lifted as he shrugged, pushing away the painful memories. 'But what does that have to do with anything now?'

'Garrus, absolutes are a luxury we don't have. Grey is the colour of life on the edges of civilization, and we have to deal with shades of it every day – you did it before with me, and you can do it again. You just need something to remind you that grey can be a beautiful colour. That's why I got you this...'

Shaking off the protective packaging, Shepard lifted her prize out of the crate and raised her eyes cautiously to the stiff figure across from her.

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_The next chapter will follow in the foreseeable future and there are virtual cookies for the person that guesses what's in the crate._

_brownc0at kindly beta-ed this ramble, but any mistakes that still linger are all mine. Her story 'Everything that Matters' is an absolute masterpiece - read it!_

_And the title is from another Matt Good song - House of Smoke and Mirrors._


	2. Chapter 2

**Right Through Me**

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**Disclaimer: As usual, all the important bits like characters, world, etc (pretty much everything but the situation) are Bioware's and not mine. Pity that...

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**Ch 2**

Shepard rose and continued to hold Garrus' eyes with her own. 'I understand why you've kept your old armour from Omega, damage and all, but if you're going to get on with your life, you need to put it away, Garrus. That's why I ordered this the last time we were on Illium.'

Garrus finally drew his gaze away from Shepard and his eyes widened in surprise when he took in what she held.

'I know the colours aren't your usual blue-on-black, but I thought it was appropriate, given what you said about being more comfortable when things were black and white. I know you prefer absolutes, but grey is good too, and I hope _this_'ll help you see that. It should fit - I had it adjusted using the measurements from your Agent armour.'

_The best medium-weight turian armour that credits can buy. Energised, plated and with an augmented medical interface_ –those had been her instructions to the volus merchant. _It's got to be the very best, in grey, and with extra weapons mounts on the back. And I need it ASAP. _

She had dictated what she wanted inscribed on the collar six times, afraid that it wasn't being transcribed properly. The shopkeeper had grown increasingly irritated as she repeated herself, but when she keyed over the payment without even attempting to negotiate the price, he quickly stifled his annoyance. The Predator armour that had been delivered three weeks later did not disappoint.

The breastplate in Shepard's hands reflected the room's bright lights dully. The edging and rim of the collar were the same vivid blue as Garrus' current gear, but the body was a deep grey. It wasn't a soft, dove grey or even a hard charcoal; it was the rich colour of oiled steel.

'There's only one group on Pavalen that could make armour like this – Armax Arsenal. It must have cost a fortune.' Garrus didn't look at Shepard as he spoke. His attention was completely riveted on the exquisitely crafted armour in her hands. He resisted the urge to stroke the smooth, steely grey surface, adding, 'You could have bought half of Omega for the credits you must have spent on armour like this.'

Shepard shrugged. 'I'd rather have you at my back than half of Omega.' The words were out of her mouth before her brain had registered what she was saying. When it did finally catch up, Aurora Shepard, hero of the Citadel and saviour of humanity, was betrayed by her complexion.

Quick to redirect the conversation to a topic that wouldn't leave her looking more like an embarrassed schoolgirl than a military commander, she grinned and gleefully reassured him, 'Don't worry, I had Cerberus pick up the tab'. She fully intended to cost the xenophobic bastards more than they had reckoned when they decided to resurrect her.

An involuntary bark of laughter burst from Garrus as he pictured Miranda's expression when she saw what was guaranteed to be a _very_ substantial bill.

Not trusting herself to say more without putting her foot in it again, Shepard handed the collar and chest plate to Garrus. She watched the emotions on his face as he hefted the bulky load and traced the symbols inlayed on the collar with his hawk-like eyes. Knowing him as she did, the awe and the surprise were easy enough for her to decipher; the intense expression that lingered as he stared at the turian script wasn't as easily identifiable.

Garrus remained silent and rigid for long enough that Shepard started to worry. Maybe her words for the inscription hadn't translated well into the turian language, or maybe there was a mistake in the flowing script?

'Damn it, I knew I should have had the translation checked! The next time I see that little mole, I'm going to kick his ass so hard he won't need a relay to get to Omega!'

'Let me guess,' she added. 'It says _filial _instead of _fidelity_.'

'It says _By Fidelity and Valour._' Garrus' voice was flat as he recalled the conversation he had overheard nearly three years earlier.

It was Armistice Day, and Shepard sat at the workbench in the hold of the SR1 Normandy, drinking cheap whiskey and swapping stories with Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams. What had started as a single toast to the end of humanity's war with the turians had become something much more relaxed as the level of liquid in the bottle sunk lower and lower.

The quiet drone of voices and occasional bursts of laughter were only half heard as, on the opposite side of the cargo bay, Garrus lay unnoticed under the Mako, adjusting the stabilization system yet again. Shepard was less than gentle on the armoured transport, and there were always repairs to be made after Joker swooped down and picked them up from whatever forsaken place they'd been.

Garrus hadn't intended to listen in to the conversation in the opposite corner, but Shepard's sharp tone caught his attention, and he had no problem overhearing her words.

'Ashley, you need to move past what happened. Your grandfather did nothing wrong – he saved most of his men from dying in a battle they had absolutely no hope of winning. They'd have accomplished nothing by dying, and he was able to see that.'

Williams' response was too low for Garrus to make out, but Shepard continued, her voice softening, 'For whatever it's worth, Ash, I think he made the right decision.'

_If you knew your Commander half as well as you think you do, you'd have known she'd say that. _

Garrus glanced over at the women, curious to see how the Chief would handle Shepard's words.

'I know, but it was hard. Everyone knew my grandfather was the one who surrendered the Shanxi garrison...'

'Stop bloody complaining; at least you knew your family!' Shepard's voice rose again with her anger. 'I barely remember mine, and the only thing I have left of them is a chunk of metal.'

Shepard reached under her uniform and pulled out the chain with her dog tags. Something heavy dangled in front of the tags but Garrus was too far away to make out anything other than a metallic glint.

'You have parents and siblings; all I have is a ring with our crest and motto. _Fide et virtute_ - By Fidelity and Valour. I used to look at these words every night and try to remember what they were like - what colour dad's eyes were, what mom's voice sounded like...'

Ashley sat in stunned silence, unable to formulate a response in the face of Shepard's naked grief.

Aurora reached for the bottle and drank it straight, wincing as the liquor burned its way down her throat. She took a second swig and wiped her streaming eyes before she shrugged and said, 'See, this is why I don't drink. This cheap shit does my head in.'

'Shepard, I'm sorry...'

'No! That's enough.' It was the Commander speaking again. The angry, orphaned girl was silenced again under the mantle of strength and control. 'We new a topic... Did you see what Joker was looking at when we got back from the Citadel last time? I didn't know asari were that flexible...'

It was clear from Shepard's tone that the previous conversation was over. Williams visibly pulled herself together and responded in a similar vein.

Garrus wondered what Shepard would say if he revealed that his family had all but disowned him for giving up his career in C-Sec to follow the human Spectre.

The women continued to talk for a while longer, but the light mood had been lost. After a few more minutes, Shepard left for her quarters. The Chief followed after storing the last of the whiskey in her locker.

When Shepard left, Garrus turned back to the Mako's stabilizers, his thoughts lingering on what he had overheard.

'_By Fidelity and Valour _– that's right. I thought the words were appropriate, but if you don't like it...' Shepard's words jolted Garrus out of his reverie.

'No.' The choked response made Aurora stop before she could voice the offer to have it removed. 'Shepard...' He cleared his throat and started again. 'Shepard, this is your family motto.'

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Thanks for the favs, watching, and comments - they certainly help with the motivation!

More to come, eventually...


	3. Chapter 3

**Right Through Me**

Sorry it's taken so long to get this posted – work has been a bit of a distraction lately...

Disclaimer: As usual, all the important bits like characters, world, etc (pretty much everything but the situation) are Bioware's and not mine. Pity that...

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Things always seem to be so hard for poor Shepard so I though this discussion with Garrus should follow suit.

"And sometimes it's hard, sometimes it's harder" Matt Good

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**Chapter 3**

'_By Fidelity and Valour _– that's right. I thought the words were appropriate, but if you don't like it...' Shepard's words jolted Garrus out of his reverie.

'No.' Garrus' choked response made Aurora stop before she could voice the offer to have the words removed. 'Shepard...' He cleared his throat and started again. 'Shepard, this is your family motto.'

Shepard jerked at Garrus' words and reflexively reached under her jacket to grab the ring hanging beside her dog tags.

'How in the hell did you know that, Vakarian?' Unlike with most of her human companions, Shepard rarely called Garrus by his surname. With him, she reserved that formality for when she was teasing, or on the very rare occasion that she was _really, really _angry. The glare and the vehemence of her growled response, however, left no doubt that the honorific was not currently being used as a term of endearment.

Garrus hesitated as he considered how to respond. 'I overheard you talking about it with... with someone a long time ago.'

It wasn't the thought of lying about his eavesdropping that caused the hesitation in Garrus' reply, but his reluctance to say anything that would increase Shepard's already agitated state.

Garrus admired Shepard's tenacity, and there was no one he respected more. The scarred marine persisted in her duty to protect humanity, trying to neutralize the Reaper threat in spite of the Council's scepticism and obstruction, right up until her death and beyond. Despite the fact that she just forced him to face his own guilt, he would do everything he could to avoid adding to the already considerable burden she shouldered.

'What? You overheard me? When was this? I don't remember telling anyone that, not even on the real Normandy.' Shepard missed the falter in his explanation, caught up in trying to remember when she might have divulged such a deeply personal piece of information. She wasn't prone to sharing that type of thing casually with anyone. As Commander, it was her duty to shoulder others' burdens, not divulge her own, no matter how badly she wanted the support.

She was strong and resourceful, principled and determined – everything Garrus admired in a leader. She was also clearly affected by the loss of those under her command; so affected that she defied the Illusive Man in order to visit the wreck of the old Normandy. Everyone on the SR2 knew the story of how Shepard told him she was going to recover what was left of the crew's personal effects, and that he was welcome to come try and stop her if he really wanted. His condescending lecture had nearly progressed to an outright order to continue when she simply commanded Joker to cut the communications and set a course to the Amada System.

Garrus struggled not to smile as he recalled Miranda's reaction to the commander's '_ungrateful_' behaviour. The blond woman had had nearly had a fit when Shepard responded 'S_ometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission'_ and walked out her indignant sermon about Cerberus.

Shepard's grief when she recovered the dog tags and other items had endeared her to many of the new crew who had yet to get to know their commander personally. The story of how she had refused to hide her tears when she returned from the frozen planet was circulated by those who had been in the CIC to witness her mourning. Those who had been on duty also told their compatriots of how she had then let her anger flare as she told Joker to set a course so they could put an end to the Collectors and Reapers both.

That type of mourning was healthy, Garrus reflected. As was the righteous anger that helped keep Shepard going where others would have faltered. The way she tensed up and withdrew whenever Williams' name was mentioned, however, was definitely not healthy. Garrus believed that on an intellectual level, the Commander knew she had made the right decision when she chose to secure the bomb on Virmire. On a personal level, however, he wondered if it would have been easier to reconcile her guilt if leaving the Gunnery Chief to her fate if it had not meant saving Alenko.

Still trying to avoid saying just when he had overheard her, Garrus hedged, 'No, you probably wouldn't remember it – you were pretty well along the way to being drunk at the time'.

'What the hell are you talking about? I practically never drink!' A heart beat later her glare dropped as realization struck and Aurora recalled the last time she had been well and truly tanked. The colour instantly drained from her face, leaving her looking pale and unusually fragile as she continued. 'It was Armistice Day, wasn't it? With Ashley and that horrible whiskey.'

Garrus nodded, watching her reaction warily. He stayed silent as he waited for the inevitable flaring of Shepard's volatile temper. He wasn't normally on the receiving end, but he had witnessed the Spectre's reaction to being shocked often enough to know that it was usually followed by her lashing out in frustration.

'What the hell! Were you and Joker listening in on the comm?'

Garrus didn't bother to dignify the question with a response. The flat look he gave Shepard as he crossed his arms made his thoughts on the accusation more than clear and served to dampen her anger a little.

'Fine,' Aurora relented, 'but if you weren't listening with Joker, where were you skulking?

'I wasn't skulking or lurking, or whatever else you want to call it. I was trying to work on the Mako's suspension when you decided to turn the cargo deck into a cheap pub,' Garrus snapped, his irritation finally showing.

'You know me, Shepard. _You_, of all people, should know that I wouldn't try to listen in on your private conversations, but I could hear things start to get a bit heated, even from where I was. I only listened for long enough to be sure I wouldn't have to stop you from doing anything rash. Besides, you pulled the plug on your binge not long after I tuned in.'

Shepard dropped her gaze at Garrus' response, regretting how petty and distrustful her words sounded, even to her own ears. The only turian aboard a ship owned and manned primarily by an openly xenophobic organization, Garrus had already met with enough distrust and prejudice to drive anyone else away. She knew full well what he endured staying with her and that it wasn't fair for her to treat him with anything but the utmost trust given everything that had passed between them. Not that anything in this life, or the last, was particularly fair...

As her thoughts turned dark, she forced herself to ignore that train of thought. _This isn't about me. I own him an apology. _Not used to needing, or wanting, to seek forgiveness, she ran her hands through her hair in an attempt to give herself time to collect her thoughts.

Before she could formulate an apology, Garrus added, 'And you still haven't answered my question, Shepard, so stop trying to change the damn topic.'

'Fine. Yes, it's my family motto.' Her sigh was loud in the close confines. 'It seemed like a good idea at the time. _God, how many times have I said __**that**__?_ Anyways, I wanted to show you that, well, you're the closest thing I have to family. And you're probably the bravest, most loyal person I have ever met, so it seemed to fit... Look, it was a stupid idea; I'm sorry.'

'You're _sorry_?' Angry at having put herself in such a vulnerable position, Shepard failed to hear the warning rumble in Garrus' voice or see the single, telltale twitch of his gun hand.

'I had a sentimental impulse. It doesn't happen often so cut me some slack, eh? I'll get the words taken off at the next...' The flow of words stopped midstream as Garrus gripped Shepard's shoulders in his hands and gave the slight human a shake.

Shepard went rigid with shock as she struggled to control her reaction to being manhandled. Had anyone else grabbed her like that, her battered Stiletto pistol would have been in her hand and at their head before her consciousness even registered what she was doing. Even now, the ingrained reaction of reaching for her gun was barely overridden by the awareness that it was Garrus seizing her. _Garrus_, whom she trusted more than anyone else on this poor substitute for the Normandy...

'Stop it.' He didn't need to yell - the command in his voice was clear as he punctuated the order with one last shake. 'Stop whatever you're telling yourself in that head of yours, Shepard, and listen to me.'

'I haven't spoken to my family in two years - _two years_, Shepard. My father nearly disowned me when I 'abandoned' my duty and my post in C-Sec to follow you the first time. After you died, he expected me to give up my 'childish infatuation' and go back to law enforcement, so when I was nominated for Spectre training, I went home to talk to my parents. My father was... less than impressed with my choice, to put it mildly. I didn't even bother to tell him when I quit the training – there was no point in adding another disappointment to his list.'

'Shepard, I lost _everything_ when we lost the Normandy. I'd finally found my place in the universe, and then it all just fell apart when we opened Joker's pod and you weren't there... After that, I was just going through the motions, because I didn't know what else to do. Until those last few days on Omega.'

Garrus' voice softened. 'I knew that I was going to die in that stinking hole, cornered in the warehouse, and I was going to take as many of the mercenaries with me as I possibly could.'

'When I first saw you coming over the barricade, I recognised you straight away – the way you move, the hand signals, how you always take cover to the left. Your armour was different and I didn't recognise you team, but I new it was you. I thought that I must have been hit and that you were a spirit come to take me away. I felt more at peace than I had in a long, long time. Then you started taking out the mercs. It was surreal; like I was looking down on the past. It didn't feel real until I woke up in the medical bay. Then I hurt enough that I knew it must be real.'

'What I'm trying to say, Shepard, is that you're all I have left in the whole damned universe. You don't need to apologize to me for anything – not a damned thing.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Right Through Me**

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Disclaimer: As usual, all the important bits like characters, world, etc (pretty much everything but the situation) are Bioware's and not mine. Pity that...

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**Chapter 4**

"What I'm trying to say, Shepard, is that you're all I have left in the whole damned universe. You don't need to apologize to me for anything – not a damned thing."

Shepard remained silent throughout Garrus' outburst, shocked at the raw emotion he showed during the tirade. Turians were naturally a reserved species, often considered cold and dispassionate by the more emotive humans. Garrus was the first to admit that he wasn't a very good turian in many ways, but his passionate reactions were usually limited to the injustices he saw around him. This outburst was so out of character, and so very unexpected, that Aurora was unable to formulate a response.

Talons dug into Aurora's shoulders as Garrus gripped her tighter. His hawk-like eyes watched her intently, trying to gauge her reaction to his words. The silence stretched out as she continued to hold his gaze. Possible responses flitted through her mind but each was dismissed in turn, quickly smothered by the overwhelming fear that anything she said would ruin the moment and shatter the recently reformed bond between them.

As she let her thoughts linger on how to respond to the man who had just bared his heart and soul to her, she realised that she no longer saw Garrus as _alien_. The hardened plating and jagged protrusions barely even registered any more. Instead, all she saw was an honourable man trying to pull his life back together.

It had been while kneeling in a growing pool of bright blue blood, trying to keep him breathing despite the blood in his throat, that Shepard had seen how much she needed Garrus. She needed Garrus' uncanny skill as a sniper and his resourcefulness, but even more she needed his quiet resolve, his integrity, and his reassuring presence at her six. He protected her from the enemy as much as from her own impulsive reactions.

The revelation had terrified her so much that she swore to distance herself from him and not become anymore attached. She couldn't let herself be that vulnerable again. Life out in the black of space was fragile and fleeting, and she had already lost so much on Mindoir and Akuze. Her resolve had died the instant Garrus opened his eyes and gasped out her name.

Now, arguing in a cramped compartment on her ship, she finally understood that Garrus needed her just as much as she needed him. Needed her for herself – not as a commander to obey and not as a hero to worship, but as a trusted friend and maybe, just maybe, as a woman. It was a heady epiphany, if a terrifying one, for a woman who saw herself as always alone.

Garrus watched her eyes widen in surprise and misinterpreting the reason for the sudden change in her demeanour, he dropped his hands from her shoulders. Shepard grabbed his arm before he could pull away farther. As she forced herself to speak past the lump in her throat, she hoped he would hear the truth in her words.

"Garrus, my friend, that was probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you." Embarrassed by the emotion in her voice and the tears that threatened to fall, she dropped her gaze to the crate at their feet. Seizing on the distraction, Shepard blinked her eyes clear and reached down to lift the grey armour again.

Garrus felt a stab of disappointment when Shepard released her grip on his arm but his attention was quickly captured by the breastplate in her hands as it caught the light. Even without the silver engraving, the armour was exquisite. Armax Armouries made the best armour in the universe and even without all the upgrades Shepard had added, this set was far superior to anything else Garrus had ever seen. Each piece meshed perfectly with the next, clasps and latches expertly hidden, creating a smooth second skin to encase the wearer.

Unable to resist the urge to touch the steely grey surface any longer, Garrus reached out and traced the inscription with a single curved talon. This was the type of armour he had dreamed of when he was younger, imagining a future of brave deeds and accolades. A future in which he was always victorious, or at least that never seemed to involve letting the bad guy go because you lacked the evidence to hold him, watching your friend get spaced, being shot in the back, or any of the other hundreds of things that haunted his dreams at night.

The soft click of catches releasing drew his attention back to the present. "Right, let's see how this fits."

"What, here? Now?" Garrus' eyes snapped back to the woman in front of him.

"There's no time like the present, Garrus. Besides, it's not like I haven't seen your sorry hide before." Shepard's crooked smile took the sting out of her words. "I've waited so long to give this to you, it nearly drove me crazy. I can't take it if you make me wait any longer."

"Anyways," she added, her smile sharpening to a wicked grin, "Joker told me turians usually go naked on Palaven, so there's no reason not to just swap over now."

Garrus laughed aloud at the look on her face, seeing another brief glimpse of the old Aurora. The one with the razor wit who laughed with her team between missions, who fought like she was invincible and drove the Mako like she had a death wish; the one who had been missing since her body was resurrected by Cerberus.

The offer was tempting, far more tempting than he would have thought. To let her see him without the armour hiding his spurs, spikes, and talons... To be seen by Shepard as a turian was meant to be seen; it made his head spin, heart race, and breath quicken just thinking about it. _Spirits, I have been among human for too long_, he though. _There's nothing to it; she's just trying to be a good, culturally sensitive leader._ Still, the proposition appealed to Garrus more than he was willing to contemplate further.

"But you're not turian," he hedged, trying to pull his thoughts back into line.

"No shit, Sherlock, but _you_ are. I can't let you run around the ship in your altogether because it might upset some of the crew's delicate human sensibilities, but I can let you can do it in here."

"Sherlock?" The confusion was clear in Garrus' voice as he tried to recall if he had ever heard the term before. "What's a Sherlock?

"Nice try, but quit trying to distract me. I'll explain it to you after you get changed."

"I appreciate the sentiment, really I do, but you don't have to do this, Shepard."

"Vakarian," Shepard laughed, "get your kit off before I make it an order."


	5. Chapter 5

**Right Through Me**

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Disclaimer: As usual, all the important bits like characters, world, etc (pretty much everything but the situation) are Bioware's and not mine. Pity that...

A/N - I thought things might get a bit smutty somewhere along the way, but apparently not - or at least not yet... Who knows, if my muse ever returns from sabbatical I might get there. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter - and if you don't let me know anyways so I can improve =)

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**Chapter 5**

"Vakarian," Shepard laughed, "get your kit off before I make it an order."

Garrus' reservations evaporated at Shepard's continued insistence. "Yes ma'am." Conscious of his commander's expectant eyes on him, he reached up to his shoulder and began undoing the hidden clasps that connected the left pauldron and collar.

Suddenly uncomfortable with the reality of watching the former C-Sec officer undress, Shepard knelt beside the crate and rummaged through the protective packaging. She forced herself to focus on carefully extracting each piece of the set and placing it beside her. The improved plating meant the armour would withstand a bone-crushing impact, but she still handled the segments with exaggerated care, aware of the value of each irreplaceable segment. When Garrus had jokingly said that she could have bought half of Omega with what the armour cost, he had been closer to the truth than he knew. In actual fact, she'd paid a sizable fortune to Armax Armouries, sparing no expense when enhancing the already superb set. It was truly a masterpiece of modern craftsmanship she now laid out around her.

While Shepard sifted through the contents of the crate, the catches down Garrus' arm gave way under the deft movements of his talons. The plating opened from armpit to wrist and he shrugged his way out of the entire arms-length of plating with an economy born of long practice. His quick glance at Shepard showed her absorbed in searching for the last boot.

"You know, Shepard, I spent 7 years with C-Sec before joining you, but all I ever got was free stationery and the occasional written warning about my 'loose' interpretation of the regulations."

Shepard's eyes stayed on the crate in front of her through sheer force of will. "Yah, and from what I gather Executor Pallin would rather have seen you in handcuffs than in new armour."

Garrus' snort of amusement turned into a grunt of pain as he tried to reach up and undo the second pauldron. "Son of a varren!" he breathed through gritted teeth, the strained and bruised shoulder muscles pinching uncomfortably between misaligned plates.

Shepard's head snapped up at the muttered exclamation; all pretence of being engrossed in searching the crate was dismissed. Garrus' face was drawn and tense, mandibles clamped tightly along his jaw. The usually stoic turian was obviously in pain.

"What the hell, Garrus? I thought I told you to have Chakwas check your shoulder out again."

"I did, but she said I just needed to give it more time. Apparently it's better to 'let these things heal naturally,' and since it's only been a few days since Tuchanka, she wanted me to let it rest for a bit longer."

Memories of Grunt's right of passage on the ravaged planet flashed through Shepard's mind. Again she saw the blurry image of an enraged krogan charging towards her while she lay stunned at the base of a crumbling pillar. Her pistol had been flung from her hand with the force of the impact and ended up buried somewhere under the rubble that surrounded her. She'd fumbled groggily with the catch on her shotgun but had known there was no way she'd be able to free the weapon in time to stop the warrior pounding towards her.

She remembered resigning her soul to whatever fate awaited her just before she heard her name shouted over the comm and saw a blue streak slam into the krogan with an audible crunch. Despite his slighter avian build, Garrus had charged the krogan, shoulder barging into the larger warrior and knocking it off balance. Before her attacker could recover, Garrus had pulled his pistol and shot it twice through the eye.

Shepard had looked up at the armoured turian, shaking her head to rid herself of the residual dizziness. "Garrus, did you just tackle a charging krogan, or am I still seeing things?"

A self-satisfied smirk had flashed across his face as he pulled her to her feet. "Well, I couldn't let the famous Commander Shepard get crushed under a krogan, could I? I mean, think about all the money your_ friends _at Cerberus pumped into bringing you back." Flipping his pistol around and handing it to her butt first, his expression had turned serious as he searched her face. "You ok, Shepard?"

She had shaken off the last of the effects and responded in the affirmative. It turned out, however, that she should have been the one asking after Garrus. His arm had hung limp at his side, the shoulder wrenched from the socket by his impact with the krogan. Unwilling to cause more damage to the unfamiliar turian physiology, Shepard had refused to try and realign the joint. They'd strapped the arm to his side and dosed him with enough Medigel to keep the swelling and pain under control until they made it back to the Normandy, but the hours until proper treatment had taken their toll.

"I've asked Chakwas to give me some more training in turian first-aid; hopefully I can be a bit more useful in the future." Unable to meet his eyes, Shepard looked towards the main consol of the Thanix cannon. _If I had been able to actually treat him properly, he wouldn't still be having these problems_.

Several years with C-Sec had ensured that Garrus knew how to relate to humans, asari, and all the other more common species of the Citadel on a basic level. But Aurora Shepard was something altogether different. Despite the differences in their cultures and up-bringing, he could read her like no one else. He saw through the facade to those parts of herself she hid from the others – the terror in her eyes every time she saw a thresher maw, and the iron will that forced her to function in spite of the fear. He was possibly the only one who recognized the guilt she carried for those she had lost and the ongoing self-doubt she buried beneath the mantel of command. It was this awareness that helped Garrus to hear the guilt and self-condemnation in her voice as she refused to meet his gaze.

"Shepard." He waited for her to look up. "You did what you could. No one expects you to be master engineer, ship commander, Spectre, _and_ surgeon all at once, you know. When her frown was replaced by a sheepish grin, Garrus knew he had successfully stopped the self-recriminations running riot through her head. "So, are you going to help me with undoing these catches, or are you going to just sit there and watch me struggle?" he asked, trying to keep her focussed on the present.

"Watch you struggle?"

"Typical," Garrus mock-growled in response to the innocent tone.

"Relax, of course I'll help."

Garrus' eyes flicked involuntarily to the floor as he stood back, waiting for her to move.

When Shepard looked down she saw the entire suit of armour laid out around her in a half-circle, taking up nearly all of the floor space in the already cramped gun battery. _Like a wall_. The insight hit her hard. _Even here I still put up my walls. And he sees it._

The realisation that dawned on her face was obvious to Garrus as Shepard looked at the barrier she'd unconsciously built between them. He stood silently, forcing himself to remain unmoving – waiting for her to come to him of her own volition. He had already told her far more than he ever intended with his outburst a few moments ago. If she chose to act, that was her decision; he couldn't do anything more without jeopardising the trust she had in him, and frankly, that trust was better than nothing.

Shepard rose to her feet and slowly replaced the lid on the crate. She took a deep, steadying breath and carefully stepped around the obstacles so that there was nothing between the two of them but a foot of air. When she looked up to try and locate the catches, she realised that he was too tall for her to easily reach the release mechanisms on his shoulder. "Here, sit," she commanded, gesturing back towards the crate. "I can't get at the clasps otherwise."

A breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding was released as Garrus stepped over the line of armour. Hope flared in his chest even as he tried to temper it with the thought that she would have done this for anyone on the team. _Well, maybe not for Miranda_, he qualified as he settled down on the box, long legs stretched out in front of him. Even sitting, the top of his fringe was above Shepard's chin.

Aurora looked at the seated turian, enjoying the opportunity to look down rather than up at him like she was usually forced to do. The colouring and the pattern of his fringe, she noted, was very different from Nihlus', the only other turian she had seriously scrutinised, however surreptitiously. Both Nihlus and Garrus shared the lithe grace that came naturally to most turians, but Shepard was fairly sure Garrus was taller and broader through the shoulders than the Spectre had been.

As she thought about the two turians, she looked closely at Garrus' face, searching for more similarities and differences. The plates covering Garrus' head and neck were the colour of new pumice, the softer hide underneath a rich fawn colour. Nihlus had been a much darker reddish-brown, almost auburn, and his facial markings curved white and sinuous across his face all the way up to his fringe. The graceful arcs had looked more like natural pigment than tattoos. The blunt, bold lines on Garrus' cheeks, on the other hand, were obviously an addition. The blue was truly striking against his sandy colouring – especially when his bright blue eyes were open. Like right now.

Shepard quickly averted her eyes from his face and found her gaze drawn to the gouges and scorch marks that extended down from the shoulder and collar of the blue armour. The surface across his chest was marred by a tapered filigree of shrapnel scars. Some of the marks were frighteningly deep. Another millimetre and the gunship's shots would have pierced his chest, rather than just his unprotected face and neck. If that had happened, it wouldn't have mattered how quickly they got him back to the Normandy because the turian would have bled to death almost instantly. She shuddered at the thought of just how close she had been to losing him in the abandoned warehouse.

_Focus_, the commander reminded herself as she turned her thoughts to the business at hand.

The surface of the scarred armour was cool under Shepard's hand as she focussed her attention on loosening the remaining arm piece from the high collar. Catches gave way beneath her probing fingers, the soft click barely audible over the omnipresent hum of the ship's drive core.

As she slipped to her knees again, Aurora maintained her grip on Garrus' arm. Sliding her hands down, she guided his hand so that it rested in her lap, palm open and talons gently curled upwards towards the roof. She slowly undid the clasps on the inside of his arm and pulled the blue shell away, leaving his entire arm bare. With barely a pause, she reached up and started to undo the fastenings down the side of the battered breastplate.

Barely even breathing, Garrus sat as motionless while Shepard stripped him of his protective coverings. He'd often fantasized about her coming to him, about her touching him in a way that friends rarely did, about brazenly touching her smooth, pale skin. But this was no fantasy; the erratic beating of his heart and the shivers that ran up his spine at the feel of her soft touch were _much _too real for it to just be in his head.

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"Focus", Shepard says - yeah right!


End file.
